Cliché
by alaricnomad
Summary: Leyton. Takes place after 4.05, I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness. Peyton finds solace in Lucas, solace to banish away the shadows lingering from Derek's attack. ONESHOT.


**Cliché**

By Alaricnomad

A/N: Heavy sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

They lay together on his bed, listening to the soft, melodious chords of Peyton's choosing streaming from his stereo, entwining in the air with the rhythmic clicking of his keyboard as Lucas worked diligently. He stole occasional glances over the screen at the curly-haired blonde at the edge of his bed, bent over her pad as she sketched out images only her imagination yet knew; his mouth curling into a fond smile every time she entered his sight.

He found himself missing the speculative light that came into her eyes as she sketched, the brightness that filled her gaze from sheer enjoyment. Now…the distance in her vacant stare he'd seen for the last few weeks following the stalker attack, the detachment and the emptiness that left aching to see again the Peyton Sawyer he had come to care for so dearly.

If she wasn't a puzzle constantly befuddling his mind, she wouldn't be Peyton. His beautiful girl…his tortured artist…his Peyton. Arching on eyebrow and peeking over the computer, he inadvertently caught a glimpse of long, slender legs outfitted in the skirt she wore. It was a strange phenomenon, that she had barely seemed comfortable in her own skin since the attack, let alone to wear any sort of revealing clothing, yet in his presence, that seemed to be completely null and void. Secretly, he was inwardly pleased she was so comfortable with him.

A bemused but content expression blanketed his face at the trail of his thoughts; his eyes strayed back to the computer screen where he'd been stuck on the same sentence for the last ten minutes in favor of watching her.

His hand reached out, lightly touching hers and she responded to his touch without bothering to raise her gaze, her palm turning over to be enveloped in his, their fingers tightly enlacing. He smiled once more, commenting conversationally, "Dashboard. Good choice."

Her head snapped up as if coming to attention, her eyes flicking to him, their previous distance focusing with recognition as their hazel hues settled on him. "Hmm? Oh, the song…yeah…"

He winced at the vague tone coloring her voice, removing his computer from his lap, setting it on the bed beside him as he scooted closer to her. He brushed a lock of her hair away from her eyes, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "Peyton, talk to me," he sighed softly.

Her eyes averted from his, fluttering closed as she leaned into his touch, brushing her lips, light and almost ghost-like, against his calloused palm. Despite himself, a shiver coursed down his spine at the caress. "Peyt…"

"I still see him, y'know. When I'm walking down the street or down the hallway at school, I see a flash of blond hair and it's like my body goes into shock. I hear noises at night and I'm afraid it's him. Someone touches me suddenly and I'm jumping like a neurotic maniac. It's not fair, Lucas."

He kissed her temple, giving their entwined hands a reassuring squeeze. "You let me touch you. That's something, isn't it?"

She looked him straight in the eye, a quiet statement falling from her lips that had his throat tightening with indecipherable emotion. "That's different. You're just…you. You're Luke, you're different.

"Good different or bad different?" he teased lightly, twirling a stray curl of her fair hair.

"Good different. Definitely good different."

He flashed a smile, but something passed through her eyes that had his smile quickly fading, a pain she could not quite disguise. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as he silently prayed for some way to chase her demons away. "What's going on, Peyton? There's something you're not telling me."

She slid her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest, her cheek rubbing against the smooth fabric of his shirt, the heat of his body soaking through the thin material to warm her. "He would have raped me, Lucas. He would have had his way…the things he said, the way he was touching me…it made me feel so disgusting. And what makes it worse…it's my fault. My webcam, my pod casts, it's like I was whoring myself to him."

"Peyton," he said firmly, his jaw setting with suppressed temper as he took her by the shoulders and drew her up to look him in the eyes, "Never say something like that. He's sick, Peyt. It's his perversions, his obsession; none of it is your fault. Do you understand?"

She nodded, tears obscuring her vision as she gazed up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that broke his heart, and he found moving almost against his will…at least the will of his head versus the will of his soul. He cupped her face in his hands, his fingers wiping away the tell-tale marks of her tears, gently tilting back her head to lightly seal his mouth over hers. 

Peyton froze against him as his lips softly glazed hers, once, twice, a third time, a hand rising to comb through her silky masses of her hair. Feeling her unresponsive, stiff and tense against him, he slowly pulled back, his blue eyes warm with emotions he couldn't begin to understand.

"Luke…"

Hearing her wary tone, he jumped from the bed, anxiously avoiding her questioning eyes as he paced across the carpet, vehemently murmuring under his breath. Guilt coursed through him, sharp and poignant, and his rapid muttering and pointless pacing came to an end as he felt her lightly place a hand on his bicep.

"Lucas…"

"I'm sorry, Peyt. Really. That was…completely idiotic of me. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, I swea-"

He found himself cut off by her placing a finger against his lips, uncertainty dancing across her expression.

Lucas laid his palm against her cheek, his eyes solemn and intense as they rested on hers. Their gazes locked on one another's, he slowly backed her up, Peyton willing submitting as she blindly stepped where he directly, only mildly surprised as her back met with his bedroom wall. He spoke to her a moment later, the tones of his voice soft and gentle, reassuring in its quiet tenor. Understanding filled his eyes, softened the feel of his hands, colored the whisper of his speech.

"I'm not him, Peyton. It's me, it's just me. It's my touch. Is that what you want?"

She stared into his eyes, searching for something inexplicable that only she knew, and she found it, in the soft touch of him as he kissed her cheek, her lips and the corner of her mouth. His hands skimmed down, his thumb brushing against the thin strip of bare flesh exposed by her shirt riding up. She arched into his touch, silently asking for more.

He momentarily leaned his forehead against hers, his breath heavy and his heart thundering as he kept his eyes locked on hers, searching for signs of hesitation, discomfort or protest as he slipped off her jacket. He kissed her once more, her hands linking around his neck, brushing over the fine hair at his nape as his tongue lightly skimmed over the seam of her lips, begging for entrance she gladly granted him.

His reassuring whispers, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to gently touch her, palming her breast to invoke a startled intake of breath, a burst of pleasure as undeniable in its intensity as the feelings for him rushing to the surface.

"I'm here, Peyton. It's okay, I'm here."

------------

He slid a hand between her legs to feel the wetness of her arousal. She whimpered softly at his sudden touch, the longing for him growing to intensified proportions as he rubbed his fingers against her, pulling down the underwear, slipping one finger inside her.  
Peyton's sudden cry of pleasure was smothered by his lips crushing over hers, his tongue greedily delving into her mouth, eager to taste her. She returned his kiss with the same heated passion, her hips rocking in rhythm with his hand, lost in sensory euphoria as his fingers moved inside her.

The sweet tension and building pleasure spiraled higher and higher, guided by the ardor of his kiss, the heat of his body as he pressed close to her, the incredible sensuality of his touch.

His hand stopped suddenly and pulled away, Peyton making a sound of protest at the loss, gasping with surprise a moment later as he dropped to her knees, his hands pushing up her skirt as his mouth replaced his fingers at the place where she ached for him the most.

She arched hungrily against him, desperate to feel more of him, a muffled whimper escaping her as she bit down hard on her lip to keep from making any sound that would draw attention to them. He gripped her hips, feeling his body's answering ache as his pants tightened almost painfully, and he caressed her harder, deeper, adding his fingers to aid in the sensual torture.

Unable to hold out any longer, she clung to him, her breath going shallow and her body quivering with tension, nails biting down into his shoulders as she came. Lucas rose to her feet and embraced her as her weakened legs gave out, her body falling against him. He held her tightly; feeling her tremble in the lasting throes of her climax, brushing back her sweat-damp curls as he lightly kissed her temple.

She tentatively whispered his name, daring to finally open her eyes to look up at him and he smiled softly. His gaze was simultaneously dark with desire and still gentle with the same tenderness she had always known from him. His lips still curved with soft fondness, he leaned his head down to rain kisses along her neck and shoulder, lightly dragging his tongue along her racing pulse point.

Lucas slid his hands beneath her top, his fingers skating along the slope of her back, tracing along her spine and her ribcage, eliciting a shiver of pleasure to course through her. His breath was harsh and ragged against her skin and she glided her hands up his back, feeling the muscles taut and tense beneath her touch. "Luke?"

"Hmm?" he murmured distractedly, absently nuzzling against her neck before tilting his head to taste the soft skin once more, finding a sensitive place just below her ear that drew a soft moan from her, transformed into a breathless gasp as his hands went to work once more, one brushing against the soft curls shielding her sex, the other sliding teasingly up her abdomen.

"Luuuke," she tried once more, the drawn out syllables of coming out more as a groan than anything else and she raked her fingers through his hair, grappling desperately for some sense of rationale despite the intense heat rising once more inside, wanting so badly to reach out and take what he was so blatantly offering.

"Lucas," she forced out, as his lips danced once more across her skin, his hand ghosting over her breasts, "Lucas, what are we doing?"

He lifted his head, his hands stilling, and Peyton was startled at the profound intensity so palpable an entity in his quiet gaze. She watched the questions, the longings, the realizations and the hesitation race through his eyes so quickly the emotions were almost beyond recognition, but she watched the decision click into place, unable to look away.

Lucas slid his hands down her legs, loving the sensation of the smooth, silken flesh beneath his touch, lifting her to him and into the shelter of his embrace, the long, slender limbs instinctually hooking around his waist. He carried her across the room, the two sharing soft kisses and lingering caresses as they collapsed into the softness of his bed, eagerly falling into one another.

He kissed her once more, quick and hard that an unintentional sound of protest left her lips as he parted from her. "Peyton, I honestly don't have a clue, but frankly…I don't give a damn about anything about how much I want to be with you right now."

Peyton's hands slid under his t-shirt, caressing the hard, warm skin along his sides as he made quick work of his belt and fly, his jeans pooling at his feet as her fingers smoothed down the subtle definitions of his ribcage. She kissed his neck, feeling the tendons there tense and flex beneath her lips as he swallowed hard, the strain of holding back showing as he fixed her with a quizzical stare, the expected words echoing through her head even before they left his mouth.

"Are you sure?"

Listening to him groan as she flicked her tongue against his skin, lightly raking her nails along the waistline of his boxers, she smiled against his neck. He tilted her head up, kissing her with a voracious hunger; tasting everything she offered and demanded even more with a gentle, urging insistence.

She responded with demands of her own; meeting him with equal passion, equal fervor as she pushed down his boxers, feeling the hard warmth of him against her thigh as he pressed close. 

"Are you sure?" he vehemently repeated, and she nodded in response, arching against him in a way that had Lucas's eyes fluttering with the sudden pleasure, releasing a muffled groan as he bucked against her.

He braced his hands against the mattress, his fists clenching fitfully as he pushed himself forward, slowly filling her, met with her appreciative moan. "Oh…God…"

Her head fell back, his weight pinning her back the only thing holding her steady as the sudden pleasure of feeling him inside her thrummed through her, the sentiment echoed in hearing his gasp of her name as he buried his face in her hair, further impaling himself into the welcoming heat of her body.

He began to move, slowly, hesitantly, his movements growing more at ease and natural with each slow thrust, their bodies adjusting to one another as if coming home after a long journey, finally meeting as one after a separation that had expounded their entire lifetime.

"Does it feel good, Peyt?" he whispered to her, his voice thick and husky, as he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, a low humming in his blood echoing through his head like intoxication, a euphoria that was the completion of finally being inside of her.

"Good…so good…" she gasped out, the statement followed by a strangled moan of his name, thrilling him in the way the syllables of the sound punctuated the air with reverberations of her pleasure.

He kissed her sweetly, softly, his own breath hitching and his body straining as his strong hands gripped her hips, angling them to deepen his thrusts, earning for them both increased ecstasy as the pleasure picked up tenfold.

"I…I love you," the whisper escaped her soft and thick with passion, culminating into a repeating mantra that had his heart soaring as he moved, bringing them higher and higher still.

She clung to him, feeling every brush of his skin, every creak of the bed frame, every rustle of the sheets as they moved, every stimulating jolt of sheer ecstasy that came as his hips jerked forward, his thrusts picking up in ferocity. His pace grew feverish, egged on by the perpetual moan of those simple, divinely amazing words in his ear, the sensation of her lips grazing against his, her body writhing beneath his.

"Peyton…you are…amazing," he found himself grunting out the words, his voice straining as his body tensed and the pressure in his abdomen build to almost painful prospects, his breath ragged and panting as he kept up the strenuous rhythm.

They were drowning in sensual bliss, in that same ache for release as their bodies came together again and again in some primordial alchemy, racing toward completion. Sweat beaded upon his face, dripping down his neck, and her tongue swathed along his pulse, tasting the salt of his perspiration. Her eyes were hooded and sultry as they met his, her hips bucking up to urge him on.

Lucas groaned, reaching down to unfasten her shirt, pulling it down to bare her skin to his eager gaze. His hips propelled forward, hard and fast, earning from her a startled gasp as the his mouth found her breast, the wet warmth of his tongue lapping over the lacy edge of her bra, adding into the torture as his hand crept between their joined bodies, his fingers seeking the sensitive spot that would stimulate her high.

Her breath hitched painfully and she half-screamed, half-sobbed out something resembling to his name, her nails raking down his back, catching into the hem of his t-shirt. His mouth sealed over hers to stifle the sound of her cry, a soft and firm warmth cut short by his own strangled call as he felt her spasm and tense all around him, bringing him into his own climax. "I love you too," were the words spilling from his lips, and then he was lost to any sort of coherency.

He held her close as they came down from their euphoric high, he kissed her, coaxing an ardent response from them both as her body quivered against her, and she was soft and sweet and warm in his arms, irresistible and intoxicating as he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. Hands pushed at their remaining clothing, sending the garments flying off to unknown destinations, eager to meet with deliciously naked skin.

She smiled down at him, beautiful as he had ever seen her, and he could not help from returning the expression, their hands tightly entwining as they began to move again, their eyes locking…their bodies yielding and heated as they glided together, slow and sensuous.

In the end…it was his touch banishing the haunting remembrances of the attack, the almost rape, and all was left was the passion and the gentleness Lucas invoked, warmed by the tenderness underlying in those beautiful words she'd waited years to hear.

"I love you…Peyton."

---------

She lay beside him, quiet and serene, strangely at peace with herself for the first time in weeks…months…perhaps even years. A soft smile touched her lips as she took in the sight of his innocently peaceful face, handsome with his rugged boyish qualities, the broody solemnity so characteristic of him eased and relaxed in his slumber.

She lightly stroked the arm draped around her waist, watching as sleepy, dark blue eyes fluttered open to gaze up at her, the warmest smile gracing his features. "Hey," she said softly

"Hey." She ducked her head to accept his peck to her cheek, leaning into his touch as he skimmed his knuckles along the curve of her cheek, his fingers absently tracing the shell of her ear. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." He glanced at her with a quizzical, torn countenance, and she cocked her head in his direction, her questions evident in her gaze. "Luke? What's wrong?"

"You're still here," there was a mixture of pleasure, relief, and confusion laced in the comment, countering perfectly to her own incomprehension as she answered him.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

He smiled, little light emotion in the sardonic expression. "No offense, Peyt, but you kind of have a history of bailing on intense situations."

"Fair enough." She looked down, reaching for his hand as they tightly entwined, bemusedly toying with their tangled fingers. "Luke, did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"What you said before…do you love me?"

"Cliché as it sounds, beautiful," and she smiled shyly at the endearment, earning a grin from him as he took in her mortified blush, "Truly, madly, deeply, I'm all yours."

"So…you're here. You're not going anywhere?"

"Yep." He grinned once more, stretching out beside her, holding out one arm in an inviting gesture. "My little brother and Haley had it right, Peyt. Always and forever."

Peyton slipped into his embrace, nuzzled against his chest and breathed in the scent that was uniquely Lucas. She had to admit, for the first time in her life, she liked the sound of cliché.


End file.
